


Standing on the Precipice

by Chibiness87



Series: An Exercise in Nostalgia [10]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s06e03 Triangle, F/M, Introspection, kick-ass Scully
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14568822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibiness87/pseuds/Chibiness87
Summary: Summary: If he dies, she’ll kill him.Or: How does Scully go from being gun-ready-to-go-off woman-on-a-mission to rolling her eyes at Mulder’s confession at the end of Triangle? Because surely nothing says I love you more than that whole scene.





	Standing on the Precipice

**Standing on the Precipice** , by **chibiness87**  
**Rating** : T  
**Spoilers/Season** : 6.03 Triangle  
**Disclaimer** : Not mine

 **Summary** : If he dies, she’ll kill him.

 **Or:** How does Scully go from being gun-ready-to-go-off woman-on-a-mission to rolling her eyes at Mulder’s confession at the end of Triangle? Because surely nothing says I love you more than that whole scene.

* * *

 

The empty desk in front of her has her worried. Mulder has been bitching about their reassignment ever since it happened, but he has still shown up for work, without fail, every day since. _I’m not going to let them win_ , he told her, when she asked why he stayed. And if he could get through this, well, then so could she.

Even if she has to pass up weekly invites to go teach medicine at Quantico. She remembers the conversation they had at the reflecting pool after they got back from Antarctica, her adamant refusal to give up on everything they have worked so hard for over the past five years still ringing in her ears.

But it is now well into the morning, and her partner, because despite everything they are still partners, has still yet to show up, and her worry is beginning to edge into concern. He would have called her, if he was ill. Played on her medical background to write him a sick note.

And she has seen both Spender and Fowley this morning, skulking the halls, so at least she knows he hasn’t run off and ditched her for his past… whatever. Again.

But then she sees three men who she never, not in a million years, thought would enter this building, never mind seek her out, and her worry/concern becomes outright dread. Her fear is evident, to her at least, when she asks why the Gunmen have risked even coming to see her, and when they tell her what her stupid, idiotic, crazy partner has done, she sees red.

Except, well, no. She doesn’t. What she sees is tunnel vision, sound buzzing in her ears, one thought drowning out all others. _No. Please, god. No._

Armed with the requirements the guys need, she sets off to the office of the one man who has always come through for them, even when the odds were stacked against them. Skinner has a soft spot for Mulder, she is sure of it, and there is no doubt in her mind that he will help her out now to find him.

But then the strangest thing happens. Skinner says no. Skinner, who she thought was an ally, says he needs to think about himself, and about his life and pension and she wants to slap him. Because this is Mulder. For god’s sake, this is the man she lov… likes. Is partners with.

Full of disgust, she slams her way past his secretary, a new office in mind. She knows she’s taking a huge risk, knows Kersh hates Mulder with a passion and barely tolerates her, but she isn't thinking with her head right now, she’s thinking with her heart. Her head only gets back in the game when she finally detects the stink of cigarette smoke permeating the office, and she spots the slimy git standing in the corner.

Instantly, she tries to fob off her impassioned speech, claiming it’s nothing after all, but the damage is done, and the slip of paper is no longer in her possession. Feeling defeated, she slinks from the office, hands going to her head in despair. God, if Mulder could see her now, he’d say…

A new thought strikes her, and she wants to hit her head off the wall for her stupidity. Why the fuck hasn’t she thought to call him? He always answers if he can when she calls, always. Most of the time. But this time the line doesn’t even connect, and she’s left listening to a machine telling her the person she’s trying to reach is unavailable. God, if he dies because of this, she’ll kill him.

The doors of the elevator open to the basement, and she stalks down the hall to the office which used to be theirs. The walls have been repaired, and there is little evidence of the fire that gutted the place only a few months ago. Her eyes hardly take in the décor however, fixed only on the man behind the new desk. Threatening other agents has never sat well with her, but this is for Mulder, and if she has to hold the goddam Director at gunpoint to get what she needs, right now she feels she could do it.

Spender, the rat bastard that he is, sells her out, and the anger she feels at this revelation is nothing to a new fear that is coursing through her. Mulder’s life may very well depend on her being able to get this information, and she is failing. She is failing him, where he has never before failed her.

She doesn’t know what to do, what to tell the guys, but then her phone goes off and she answers without even glancing to see who’s calling. The reception in the elevator is as lousy as she has ever known it to be, but in the end it doesn’t matter because it’s not Mulder, it’s Skinner. Skinner, who has come through, and there is a tiny part of her that feels bad for what she yelled at him in his office, but the bigger part of her is just so thankful that they actually have a shot at finding Mulder she has kissed Skinner before she quite realises what she has done.

Oh.

Dear.

God.

His eyes are almost as wide as hers, but he recovers quickly, covering for them both, and she doesn’t even care that he’s essentially dressing her down in front of anyone waiting for this particular elevator, the slip of paper in her hand her only focus.

Stepping into the parking garage, it is only a moment before the guys show up in their van, and then they are speeding away, towards answers, towards Mulder, and the sight of Spender running after them is just the icing on the cake.

Her relief turns to dread, however, when they manage to find the ship Mulder was looking for, only to find no-one on board. Mulder has to be here, he has to be; she cannot entertain any other thought. A yell from the boat that brought them out here has her on deck in a matter of moments, and she sees what they have spotted, and her heart instantly freezes.

Dear god. No.

Please, no.

Mulder is face down in the water, has been that way for who knows how long, and the doctor in her fears the worst, while the woman in her can do nothing but stare.

A rush of activity has him being pulled from the water, and she is by his side in an instant, fingers searching for a pulse. He’s cold, is her first thought, and there is a touch of cyanosis to his lips. Without thinking, she presses her own to them, forcing air from her lungs into his. She remembers being told once, on rotation in the ER, that _a patient isn't dead until they are warm and dead_. Cold makes the body’s metabolism slow, a technique used sometimes in theatre, and only an idiot pronounces death before the patient has been warmed back up. Breathing for him once more, she finally calms enough to be able to feel the tiny flutter of his pulse, weak and thready, but there. The doctor in her fully in charge, she demands blankets, anything with warmth, struggling to pull the soaked fabric from his chest and throwing her own jacket over him, before breathing into his mouth once more.

He is not going to die here.

She won’t allow it.

More clothes get piled by her side, along with a few blankets and a sleeping bag, and more than anything she wants him to wake the hell up and crack a joke about them finally being able to test the theory he told her one night in a forest. But he remains stubbornly unconscious and silent, though she notices with relief he has begun to shiver, his body beginning to react to the new warmth.

Tenderly, she runs a hand though the wet mop of his hair, brushing it away from his face. It is another hour before they land, but someone must have radioed ahead, because there is a medi-chopper waiting for them, and she feels a weight lift from her shoulders. The Gunmen don’t even hesitate to tell the medics on board she is going with them, and she can only shoot them a look of gratitude in return.

Frohike gives her a knowing nod, and for a second she wonders just how rampant the rumours have spread though the Hoover building. But the sight of Mulder being loaded into the chopper makes everything else a dull haze, and she is pulling herself alongside him in a matter of seconds, unwilling to let him out of her sight for the next, oh, month, at least. Even if she has to cuff him.

He doesn’t get to scare her like this and walk away scot free.

Not that she expects him to be up and about any time soon.

It takes a while for his body temperature to rise, and another day for the doctors to be sure he hasn’t contracted any infections, a fact which is a minor miracle in and of itself. Throughout it all she has been by his side, her phone turned off, consequences be damned.

She’s right where she’s supposed to be.

When he finally wakes, eyes hazy with pain and drugs, she feels she can breathe for the first time since the guys first entered the bullpen. She wants to yell at him, wants to chain him to his desk, wants him to never scare her like that again, but before she can make the threats she wants to, he’s telling her she saved the world, and then the room is invaded with the others. Idly, she wonders when Skinner showed up, but then they are making Wizard of Oz jokes, and she figures it can wait.

The visit is short, but the slight interlude of their chat has stripped her of her courage, and she goes to follow the men out. But Mulder calls her back, and she is helpless to do anything else.

And then he tells her he loves her.

And she knows this.

Of course she knows this.

Has known it since she woke one night in a hospital bed, riddled with cancer, to find him hunched over her and sobbing like his heart was breaking, and at the time she had thought it a kindness to let him have the moment of privacy, convinced it was the end.

But that doesn’t mean she knows what to do with the knowledge, especially now the words are out in the open. The kiss they almost shared in his hallway a few months ago still plays nightly in her mind, but each time with a different ending. Sometimes, he picks her up and takes her back inside. Others, she has he pushed back against the wall, giving a show to anyone who happens to walk past.

But she can’t let the first time they share these words be in a hospital, with drugs and pain being the catalyst. They deserve better than that.

So she rolls her eyes and walks away, convinced in the morning he’ll have forgotten what he said.

She’ll never tell him she almost said, “Me, too.”

The security footage of her rampage through the halls of the Hoover are proof enough of that.

 

* * *

End

Thoughts?

 


End file.
